


Frozen Moments

by lloydsglasses



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cross-Generational Friendship, Families of Choice, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lloydsglasses/pseuds/lloydsglasses
Summary: A series of Christmas ficlets.1. “Why do you keep buying me rugs?”2. “You know,” Bill says thoughtfully. “I never realised just how sexist this film is.”3. “So, what exactly do you have against Christmas trees?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in some kind of AU universe where the whole Missy/Master storyline from S10 was never a thing, Bill has decided she wants to travel full time on the TARDIS, everyone is happy and nothing bad happens I’m not in denial shut up

“It’s a rug.”

Bill smiles at the bemusement in his voice – he sounds _exactly_ the same as last year.

“Why do you keep buying me rugs?”

She shrugs and thinks briefly of stars. “I felt like it suited you.”

The Doctor doesn’t say anything in response to that, but there are starbursts and galaxies on the fabric beneath his fingers and, from the way he can’t seem to stop looking at them, Bill thinks he probably agrees.

“Besides…” she coughs a little, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. “Well, I just figured that I’m planning to stick around for a while. And it’s Christmas, so coming up with some traditions seemed like a nice way to start.”

The Doctor looks over at her, a faint smile spreading slowly across his face. “I’ve never really had any Christmas traditions before.”

“Me neither, to be honest,” says Bill, with a smile of her own.

When she next steps foot inside the TARDIS – backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder, box of treasured possessions in her arms – the rug is sitting happily just inside the door.

\--

Some time later, the Doctor dumps something heavy on Bill’s chest and she wakes with a start.

“Thanks, mate,” she mutters groggily, but nevertheless drags herself up into a sitting position and peers at the heavy something now resting on her legs. It’s deceptively small for its weight, wrapped messily in Christmas paper and covered in an abundance of bows. The Doctor plops himself down next to her on the bed and watches expectantly as Bill sets about opening it.

She laughs delightedly as the paper comes away. “Okay, the TARDIS is one thing, but _wrapping paper_ that’s bigger on the inside? How does that even work?”

The Doctor just smiles, looking tremendously pleased with himself. “Do you like it, then?”

Bill tears off the rest of the wrapping and the rug unfurls itself across her legs, revealing a bright rainbow of colour. _It’s perfect,_ she thinks.

“It’s a rug,” is all she says, but she can’t hold back her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I never finished those other DW fics but life got busy please enjoy this Christmas offering in recompense


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” Bill says thoughtfully. “I never realised just how sexist this film is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains some Love Actually bashing. Because while I really like Love Actually I also really don't like Love Actually

She’s lying on the bed – face planted firmly in her pillow, feeling particularly glum – when the Doctor pops his head around the door.

“Are you busy?” He asks.

Bill groans. She loves living on board the TARDIS, but sometimes she wishes she could have a bit of her own space.

“No. But I’m not in the mood for an adventure right now. Take Nardole instead.”

The Doctor makes a scoffing noise. “Nardole’s rubbish for adventures. Anyway, that’s not really what I have in mind.”

Bill makes a point not to respond, hoping he might go away if she just ignores him. Of course, this is the Doctor, and before long his bony fingers are tapping persistently on her shoulder. She sighs in annoyance, and resigns herself to her fate. “Will you promise to leave me alone after we’ve done… whatever it is we’re doing?”

There’s a pause. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

With some effort, Bill rolls onto her back and heaves herself up into a sitting position. “So, what are we doing?”

The Doctor claps his hands together. “Put your pyjamas on and meet me in the TV room in five minutes!”

With that, he vanishes back out through her bedroom door.

\--

There’s a hot chocolate waiting for her in the TV room. Steam wafts gently upwards from her favourite mug, sitting on the coffee table next to a plate of mince pies and a box of Christmas crackers.

“What’s this, then?” she asks, dipping her finger in the frankly alarming amount of whipped cream at the top of her drink.

“Pyjama party,” says the Doctor. He gestures towards the box of crackers. “Christmas themed pyjama party.”

Bill stares at him. _The Doctor_ and _pyjama party_ are two concepts that don’t really go together in her head.

“You’re not wearing pyjamas,” is all she can think to say.

“I’ve taken my shoes off,” huffs the Doctor, defensively. Bill watches as he folds down onto the sofa, wrapping himself in a ridiculous, fluffy blanket as he fiddles with the TV remote. For the first time all day, a smile works its way onto her face.

She plucks out a mince pie from the plate and settles down next to him. “What are we watching?”

The Doctor holds up some kind of futuristic-looking disc-box type thing with Hugh Grant’s face and the words _Love Actually_ written over the top. “It’s supposed to be Christmassy.”

“It is. I guess I ought to go find a turtleneck.”

\--

“You know,” Bill says thoughtfully, a bit later on. “I never realised just how sexist this film is.”

The Doctor hums through a mouthful of mince pie. He pulls a face when, on-screen, Keira Knightly kisses Andrew Lincoln on the lips, as if stalking your best friend’s wife is something you ought to be rewarded for. “A bit creepy, too.”

“Yeah,” Bill agrees. “This is definitely the worst storyline in the whole film. Even including that one where Kris Marshall’s twattery turns out to be justified because obviously _all_ American women are promiscuous.”

“I’m not sure the others are much better. The women are all so samey. None of them have any personality.”

“Yep. Like ‘bewitching seductress’ is the only type of woman in existence. Except for Emma Thompson, wonder that she is. This is legitimately so sexist.”

“Sexist and boring,” the Doctor declares, with a decisive nod. 

Bill blinks. She’s a little surprised at the latter comment; usually when the Doctor finds something dull he doesn’t tend to be quiet about it. “How come you didn’t say anything until now, if you’re not enjoying it?”

He looks across at her briefly, before returning his eyes to the screen and shrugging. “You were upset. This kind of thing is supposed to help people be less upset, isn’t it?”

Bill stares at him – sitting in his fluffy blanket with his flimsy Christmas cracker hat arranged dopily around his hair – and finds herself feeling unexpectedly moved. She leans forward, linking her arm through one of his own and leaning her head against his shoulder. “It’s the company more than the film, you know.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply to that. He offers her half of his blanket to share though, so Bill thinks he probably understands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, what exactly do you have against Christmas trees?”

“Erm, what are you doing?”

Bill’s standing at the door to the console room – barefooted and tousle-haired, still clad in her pyjamas – watching in bemusement as the Doctor rips branches from the small Christmas tree she put up the previous afternoon.

“Getting rid of this tree,” says the Doctor, stepping on a bauble and sending pieces scattering all over the floor.

She frowns at him in bleary confusion. “So, what exactly do you have against Christmas trees?”

“They kill,” responds the Doctor grimly, and sets about shredding the tinsel.

“Right,” Bill says slowly, before turning around and heading straight back to bed. It’s way too early for this kind of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I re-watched The Runaway Bride with my dad yesterday and David Tennant's _"they kill"_ line still cracks me up. Also I needed some more fluff before this evening's episode destroys me.
> 
> In other news: Merry Christmas! ^_^


End file.
